,
the other's concern over his, Jean's, moodiness, was, after all, not to
be regretted! It would have its significance for Henry Bliss!

He pushed the trunk back beside its mate under the bed. Money now! A
sudden, sharp exclamation, almost of dismay, escaped him. He had
little or no money--a few French notes, sufficient for his needs on
board ship only. Monsieur Bliss had said more was unnecessary--that he
could make drafts through the other's banking connections in New York
as he needed them. He searched through the clothes he had taken off,
found his pocketbook, opened it, and counted the contents--five
twenty-franc notes, a ten-franc gold piece, some silver--that was all!
Less than twenty-five dollars in American money! Well, if it was
all--it was all! It could not be helped! He shoved the pocketbook
philosophically into his pocket; and, gathering up the clothes he had
worn, tied them into a bundle. There remained only the heavy ulster.

He looked slowly, critically about him; and, satisfied that he had
overlooked nothing, walked swiftly into the sitting-room, seated
himself at the writing desk, and, from one of its pigeon-holes, pulled
out a sheet of the ship's notepaper. He hesitated a moment
thoughtfully--then picked up a pen.

"_Je m'ennui de tout_--I am tired of it all," he wrote. He balanced
the pen in his fingers, and stared at the words cynically. What a
commotion it would cause! What food for excitement, for the hysteria
of those who cared nothing save for the self-importance it brought them
in being so intimately connected with so famous a tragedy as to have
been on the _same_ ship where it occurred! They would remember what he
had eaten for dinner that night, and quarrel over who had last seen
him; and they would envelope themselves with an air of pained and
morbid gloom--and cling to the gloom tenaciously because they delighted
in it! What an event! And out of them all, with the exception of
Henry Bliss, there was none who--ah, yes! Ironically, as the grim
humour of it struck him, a smile curled Jean's lips. The stewards who
had looked after him would care very much! That one might die, if one
wished, was all very well; but to be inconsiderate enough to jump
overboard without leaving the _douceurs_ of the voyage behind, could be
construed as nothing less than a personal affront! He reached suddenly
into his pocket, the irony of the thought lost in a flash of
inspiration, and pulled